A Few Days In Review

Ok, I’ve been slacking off. Truth is: I’ve been a semi-emotional mess trying to convince someone to be real enough to let me know what’s what while they’re busy handing me a fuck you the size of a Goodyear Blimp. Ah well, considering how many fuck you’s I hand out on the regular I guess I should be able to take one…

Saturday night, theme song: Sweet Back

Just like candy, it’s sweet sweet sweet.
The panty thing didn’t work out that well. It was cold as hell in the joint. My left cheek had a conference with my right cheek and the general consensus was “Bitch, put on some clothes.” So I slung some fishnet over my gams and donned a rather short skirt. I figured I had to give the people a little bit of what I promised ‘cause skin is so VERY in.

As usual we can’t do shit on time and I also discovered something new about myself: I can fold the hell out of a t-shirt. I’ve got to thank Chloe for staying by my side all night, LaRonda for providing back up and Maya for showing her boobies.

The first set was ridiculous. The boys pulled out all the stops. Between Jerome’s lack of shirt and Luq’s safety orange jumpsuit n safari hat, it was hilarious. The sound was so very, very on point. Quite possibly the best set up I’ve ever heard them play. The stops were pulled out when they brought the string sisters on stage and ripped it. A cello, viola and violin. Insanity. Maya then amplified the whole deal by jumping onstage to promote the FunkFace apparel… if you know Maya, you know she didn’t just say “Hey y’all go buy a t-shirt”. She diy’d a boombox baby tee and stripped on stage. Did I mention the FF stickers she used as nipple pasties? Then she stage dived. The woman is awesome. And of course they played my joint. Sweet Back with Luq on horn. I can’t begin to describe the force that rocked the room. The floor was shaking. I was up on a not so stable stool, risking my life and bouncing around. Then it was over…

Until they came back up. It was time for w.f.u.k… we funk you radio, complete with guest appearances by HoneyChild, Lisa Mclain and The Selecter. HOLY SHIT. When The Selecter ripped into an extended version of “Too Much Pressure” the whole room, from the barback to the sound guy, was on fire. If you didn’t know how to skank, you got a crash course and understood ska. Then, sadly it was truly over. I can’t wait ‘til tour time. It’s gonna be crazy. So it ended and at that point I was so amped that going home was not an option. Raines and I trucked it over to Library and had a nightcap while dodging feisty denizens of the New York underground. I swear New York is the only state with rats the size of Pomeranians. We stumbled home around 4 after stopping at La Marmite for a trough of fish and rice.

Sunday, theme song: Sgt Baker

Talk about a lazy day. I slept until I just couldn’t sleep anymore. Then it was off to brunch at Plum Pumidor. Don’t eat there. The food is bland and the service is way more than lacking. However, if you’re into aesthetics and happen to be in Washington Heights, then it’s the spot for you. Back in the house supposedly getting dressed to head downtown, I got a case of itis and promptly went back to sleep. By the time I woke up my stomach was once again requesting grub. Mama Mexico found me wearing a big grin while waiting for the guy in the really tight pants to finish making the guacamole. Barring the few moments that I was positively livid and the fact that it was colder than a witch’s left titty, the meal was fanfrickintastic. I guess you can figure out what happened afterwards? Yep. More sleep.

Monday, theme song: 100 mph

I had forgiven muMs for the clunking of the noggin and we wrote for most of the day until it was time for the backyard barbeque at his neighbor’s house. Mmmmmm. Me likey barbeque. After eating my fill, I scampered back upstairs, knocked out a few ideas and uh huh, went to sleep. I love it. My sleep debt has been getting some serious payment lately. And since we are both losers, 4 am found us playing God of War, aggravated that he had gotten through the whole game, ended up getting killed by Ares and got sent to Hades. At press time, he’s still there. Damn that game.

Tuesday, theme song: Take this job and shove it

Back to work. I was somewhat tired having watched muMs jump through fiery hoops and what not until the wee hours. Midday I had a confrontation of sorts with an associate. She pulled the talk-to-you-any-old-kinda-how move and I kindly turned my back on her. It was funny really. Considering how I am likely to cuss a bitch out, why do people get even more upset when I don’t say anything? I mean, I turned away just so I wouldn’t tell her what a raging bitch she was being and she was offended anyway. I should have just called her a bitch and been done with it. Alas. Fuck her.

I got home and did some damage to a plate of brisket and saffron rice and then promptly fell asleep. This sleep thing is starting to get good to a girl. Somewhere around 11 I gave muMs a ringading and the move for the night was RandR to check out Forrest Renaissance’s eclectic ride for a few drinkeroonies and some serious ass shaking. The music was a little off but DJ Reborn is usually good so I won’t go into how uninspired some of the mixes were. I need to say that some people need to get a friggin grip. Raines and I sat next to some folk that apparently believed that the silly ass bottle they purchased at ridiculously marked up prices meant they owned the sofa. Dude… it’s a mini-club in the meat packing district. Take a pill.
Of course Kara’s gorgeous self was up in the spot giving men heart attacks and the live show was pretty good considering I forgot who the hell performed. And you know it was all about the bucket of fish from La Marmite during the wee hours.

Wednesday, theme song: Hairspray Queen

The mission to find a men’s medium sized t-shirt began at about 10 am and ended at 2 pm. I swear every store in Washington Heights specializes in big and tall. Heavy on the big. Raines and I walked up and down for hours like lost street urchins and I blew a wad on some jewelry that by rights, I don’t need, but I wanted because it looked good. Add funky jewelry to my obsession list along with socks, office supplies and underwear.

Somewhere around 4 pm found me getting a chocolaty mani/pedi on 8th street. I swear I go to that place solely for the massage chair. Yesterday was the first time I enjoyed the chair with no hair standing between me and the little massage balls. Um… I was practically soaking. I need me onna dem thar chairs. I get me onna dem thar chairs I’m swearing off men forever. I mean it. Seriously. I do.

After dinner at Sapore’s it was over to Bond Street to catch the opening of the 3 person tour de force that is Miss Julie, directed by the incomparable Per Bahe (I hope like hell I spelled his name right). To get me to sit still in a chair for more than an hour you know the play had to be good. The level of emotion portrayed by the actors was astounding. At one point I hated the male lead for being a total cad. He played the hell out that role.

After bravos, introductions and kudos, we kept it moving to Apt. We pulled up in a cab and had a laugh because Rich was outside… well if he’s outside, then who’s spinning the music inside. Turns out we were hella early, which was ok with me since that meant I got to get a drink before it got packed, which it did, quickly. I ran into a few people like Marj, Dister, Evan and THANK GOODNESS Human (ooooh giggle-giggle). I know a lot of people. So much so that I mistook a guy for someone that I’ve been meaning to cuss out. Good thing I looked twice and no dude, I was not gonna hit on you.
I would like to say that it is not sexy to tell a woman that her ass looks just as tasty now as it did when she was 18. Dude. That’s why you don’t get laid. Duh. After all these years you still say all the wrong shit. Sheesh. I’d also like to say to the guy that wrote his number on a dollar bill and slipped it to me while Raines was off getting a drink, you’re an idiot. Who does that? All you had to do is ask if we were together and I would have told you no. Instead showed yourself to be a cornball who has no respect. And I meant to slap your hand. You don’t know me… what the hell made you think you could touch my head because you gave me a compliment. Asshole.
I should have kept my hood up most of the night because the head touching got to an insane level. I wonder if I can get some kind of electronic force field that will deliver a serious jolt of juice to the random people that insist on touching the dome. Sheesh.

Thursday, theme song: Milk it

It’s been an interesting few days. I’m kind of still thrown off. I need some slap and tickle. I’m practically consumed by my need for slap and tickle. Ugh. I need to slap a few people (but I won’t). I still need to find out why. I need another sweatshirt. I need to get out of these platforms I’m wearing. I really need a slip since apparently the entire world can see my entire ass through this white skirt I have on. I need a cup of coffee. I need some sleep before I go se my babies perform tonight at Snitch PILLOW THEORY what what! I need to find out the address of ceilo’s to meet up with Bee after the show.

Y’all need to bear with me while I get it together.

- straight lunchin…